Unconsciously her free hand goes to where the bullet went in; there is scarring but it is faded as if it's been months since her injury instead of a week. It is unnerving that way. Lexa does not like the implications of that, but it is not something she can change. She remembers the feeling of dying, the life draining away from her, and understanding it was the end. There were worse ways to die than in the arms of someone she loved, she realized. Maybe that's why she felt so calm, looking into Clarke's face, ready to join the other commanders.

"There's not much to see, but I could use a second opinion." Her tone is gentle, teasing, reacting to the memory of her loss and the way she felt then, along with the smirk on Clarke's face.

She reaches out to place a steady hand on Clarke's arm, careful to be on the fabric of her shirt so as not to force the bond on her. Instead it is meant to be grounding and supportive, a serious but soft expression on her face. "It sounds as if you have found a place good for you, Clarke. I know you never liked death as the only answer." They did not see eye-to-eye on that for most of their time together, but death is so much a part of Lexa's culture and mindset. She can still be glad for Clarke to find the type of peace their world was not kind enough to offer.